


one thing

by pendules



Series: redemption [1]
Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Angst, Apologies, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Making Up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-28
Updated: 2017-02-28
Packaged: 2018-09-27 12:10:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10020221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pendules/pseuds/pendules
Summary: I don't what?he taps out before that fleeting hope subsides.The response comes back in less than a minute:you don't deserve it.His vision blurs as he stares at the miraculous words in front of him and then he presses the call button, before he can talk himself out it, convince himself that it's better to take this in small steps, to not ask too much from the universe, especially now when it seems determined to kick him in the teeth at every given opportunity.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Set during/after RAW 27/02/2017. 
> 
> So, after [that segment](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Rx5pDMcozZI) I just wanted to hug Seth and tell him it's not his fault. This is, like, the third time I've cried over Seth freakin' Rollins in the last week. I don't even know. I never expected to have this many feelings tbh.

He just needs — a minute. A minute alone, after looking Hunter in the eyes and seeing nothing but disgust there, after laying his soul bare in front of the entire arena and millions of people watching at home. He's never felt this raw and exposed before in his life. He has nothing left. He has nothing but one goal he's clinging desperately to — thirty-three days. Extracting some of what Hunter took from him, in pain, in blood, in months off his career —

It just _hurts_ , it hurts as much as it did back in August, it hurts more than he ever thought it would. And maybe he _did_ know this day would come — because of karma, because that's what people like Hunter (and himself) _do_ — but he _thought_ — He thought they _cared_ about him. He thought that Hunter looked at him and saw not only himself, but someone he could respect and admire and — love. But it was all a lie. Love makes you weak, he's always known this, and now he's fallen into its trap. And now he's left with nothing.

Except he _does_ have something else. Or something he used to have. Something he could get back. Someday. He hopes. 

He'd passed Roman in the hall on the way back to the locker room and he'd just patted him on the back, soft and brief, almost the way he used to after they'd lost a big match together. Seth couldn't look him in the eye, though; it's still hard. He's still afraid of what he might find there.

He sits on the bench, extends his right leg in front of him, stares down at it for a moment, and then at the wall in front of him, at nothing. He remembers the quick snap in his knee, the first time, and again four weeks ago. Everything changing. All in the blink of an eye. His championship gone. Wrestlemania gone. Months of his life taken away. Just like that. It almost reminds him of another snap. The snap of a chair hitting a back — 

His phone's vibrating, he realises, bringing him back to the present. He's not sure he's grateful for it. For the reality of a crutch and a brace and the uncertainty of what lies ahead of him. He thinks about ignoring it, but something makes him reach inside his jacket pocket and pull it out.

Dean's number never left his phone. He'd scroll past his name a million times and think about deleting it every time because no fucking way would Dean ever be calling him again. But he never did it. 

And now there it is: _From: Ambrose_

Two words: _you don't._

And of course he would be watching tonight of all nights. When all Seth wanted to do was look directly into the camera and say everything he's always wanted to say, things he probably _never_ will be able to say, even if they won't mean anything, even if they won't change anything that's happened.

Dean's last text before this one was in December after Tribute to the Troops, just saying _we should talk sometime_. And he'd replied _yeah, definitely_ , even though his heart was stuttering in his chest just thinking about it, about facing all of it, everything he did, finally. But they hadn't gotten around to it, between their heavy schedules and Seth being banned from the Rumble and then getting reinjured right after and having to focus on rehab and — _Wrestlemania, Hunter_ , the meager list of things he has to live for.

Maybe this is one of those, too. Maybe he can dare to wish.

_I don't what?_ he taps out before that fleeting hope subsides.

The response comes back in less than a minute: _you don't deserve it._

His vision blurs as he stares at the miraculous words in front of him and then he presses the call button, before he can talk himself out it, convince himself that it's better to take this in small steps, to not ask too much from the universe, especially now when it seems determined to kick him in the teeth at every given opportunity.

" _Hey_ ," he says, and he knows his voice sounds hoarse and wrecked and he can't be bothered to hide it. It's not like the entire world didn't just see him breaking down in the center of the ring. "Can we talk? Are you —?"

"Yeah, yeah, sure." Seth hears as he sits up, mutes the rest of the show, suddenly urgent.

He runs his fingers through his hair before putting his face in his hands, head bowed, shoulders hunched over, curled in on himself. He massages his temple, tries to control his breathing. 

"You okay?" Dean asks after a moment, his voice tender, concerned. It kind of makes him want to punch something, hard.

He clenches his jaw instead, steadying himself.

" _No_ ," he says, because he's never going to lie to Dean ever again. He exhales. "You ever feel like you're just...paying for all your sins all at once?"

"Nah," Dean says seriously. "Pretty sure I'll still be payin' for all those shoplifted wrestling tapes when I'm ninety. Not that I'll live to see ninety."

Seth laughs despite himself. He hears Dean chuckle softly before the sound fades into the silence.

"How do you do it?" he asks, his voice breaking slightly. "When everything hurts so fucking much."

He can almost see Dean close his eyes, shake his head, shrug his shoulders, tug his bottom lip between his teeth as he contemplates.

"I don't know. Find something," he replies eventually.

"Like what?" Seth says, feeling more lost and desperate than he's ever let himself be.

"Just one thing. One thing that's worth it."

"And if you have it and then you lose it again? What then?" 

"Keep going anyway. Just out of sheer stubbornness. Just to prove them all wrong." It's the most _Dean_ answer imaginable and somehow exactly what he needs to hear. 

Seth sighs. "What if it was _you_?"

"What was?"

"The one thing."

He hears Dean let out a breath, but he doesn't say anything.

"I don't know how you can...forgive me. _Ever._ After everything I — I took your _family_ from you. I wouldn't forgive me for that. I don't know —" He's always known that love makes you weak, made Dean weak. Except that's the lie. Seth's always been the weak one.

" _Seth_..." Dean says, and it's shaky, and he's sure he's ruining everything, sure he's callously ripping open old wounds, but he has to say it.

"And it was — it was _my_ family too. You and Roman — I — I don't even know how to be around him. It's so hard. I don't know what to do —"

" _Seth_ ," Dean says, firmer, through gritted teeth. 

" _Dean_." It sounds like _Please_. _Please don't hate me, even if you should. You should fucking hate my guts. I deserve that, and more. But I'll do anything, I'll spend the rest of my —_

"You _are_ ," Dean tells him, certain and earnest. "You're _still_ my family. And family gets fucked-up sometimes, but it's _always_ family."

It sounds simple. It sounds too simple. It sounds fantastical and beautiful and somehow all too real at the same time.

"I'm _sorry_ ," he says, almost a sob, and it feels like a tremendous relief, like a ten-ton weight off his soul.

"It's okay," is all Dean says, like he means it, like it's _done_ , like maybe _they_ can be okay again, somehow, impossibly. He feels his heart flood with gratitude. "Just focus on getting better, okay? And kicking Hunter's ass. And I'll see you at 'Mania."

Seth smiles, wipes away tears. Sits up, tips his head back to take a long, deep breath.

"Thanks, Dean," he murmurs. "For everything."

"You should talk to him," Dean says gently. "Roman. I think he's worried about you."

Seth nods. "Yeah, I will. Promise."

"I'm here, okay?" Dean assures him. "If you need anything."

"No, _that's_ all I need," Seth tells him honestly. "To know you're there."

He knows Dean's smiling as he says, "I'll talk to you soon, then?"

"Yeah," Seth replies. "I'll keep in touch. Promise."

It's not everything he needs to say. It's not _I missed you, so fucking much_ and _I'll do anything to make it right_ and _I'll never, ever hurt you again, I promise_. It's not _I love you, I just didn't know how to before_. But it's _enough_ , for now. It's a start. It's what he needs, to carry on. The hope. The chance. The one thing.


End file.
